DOLL PARTS ━━ Stiles Stilinsk...

C.H.⠀𝟬𝟭𝟱⠀✷⠀Hi온라인카지노게임 Repeats Itself

❝ I think we're different.
Maybe even...supernatural different.. ❞

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Brietta's eyelids flutter as she stares at her laptop screen, the once-coherent essay now a jumble of incomprehensible symbols. Her brow furrows as she tries to decipher the gibberish before her, a nagging sense of unease settling in her stomach.

⠀⠀Glancing around her room, Brietta's gaze lands on the gap beneath her bedroom door. Tendrils of smoke begin to seep through, curling and twisting as they fill the space. Her heart races as she leaps from her bed, only to stumble backward into the wall. To her shock, the wall gives way like soft clay, molding around her form.

⠀⠀A sudden realization washes over her: this isn't real. She is dreaming, trapped in a vivid hallucination of her own making. Despite this knowledge, Brietta finds herself powerless to alter the course of events unfolding around her. She's a mere spectator in her own mind's theater.

⠀⠀A blood-curdling scream pierces the air, causing Brietta to flinch. The sound is hauntingly familiar—her own voice, she realizes with a start. The scream is followed by a series of sharp, sickening cracks and a heavy thud that seems to reverberate through her bones.

⠀⠀A shadowy figure materializes before her, its form blurry and indistinct save for a pair of piercing green eyes. Brietta's racing heart inexplicably calms at the sight. The figure's lips move, its voice distorted yet unmistakably feminine, "It's not your fault, Brietta."

⠀⠀Time seems to reverse, and the words echo once more: "It's not your fault, Brietta."

⠀⠀"Brietta!"

⠀⠀With a sharp intake of breath, Brietta's eyes fly open. She jerks upright, her vision swimming as a wave of dizziness washes over her. The familiar scent of chalk and old textbooks fills her nostrils as she blinks rapidly, trying to orient herself.

⠀⠀Mrs. Bressler's concerned face swims into focus. "Brietta," she says gently, "are you okay? You fell asleep half-way through the lesson."

⠀⠀Brietta's hand trembles slightly as she rubs her eyes. "Yeah, I just couldn't sleep last night. I'm sorry." The half-truth tastes bitter on her tongue, but she can't bring herself to admit to her last-minute essay cramming session.

⠀⠀"Do you want me to write you a pass to the Nurse?" Mrs. Bressler offers.

⠀⠀Brietta shakes her head, forcing a weak smile. "No, I'm okay." The sound of shuffling feet and muffled conversations catches her attention. She glances towards the classroom door, watching as students begin to file in for the next class. A flush creeps up her neck as she realizes how long she must have been out. "I should get to my next class."

⠀⠀As Brietta gathers her belongings, the acrid smell of smoke seems to linger in her nose.

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The sounds of panting came from behind Brietta and Allison, sounds of leaves crunching underneath their footfalls slightly drowning out Lydia's lack of athleticism. "Allison, when you said you needed to stop for an errand before we went shopping," Lydia cuts herself off to catch her breath before continuing, "a five-mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting."

⠀⠀"Yeah, Ali," Brietta inhales and readjusting her satchel before continuing, "I wanted to redecorate my room." She hadn't actually wanted to, but that sounds better than saying "I wanted to decipher a letter that a murderous werewolf might've sent me."

⠀⠀"About time, Brie," Lydia smirks, "No offense, but your room is bland." Brietta gapes at Lydia's insult, placing a hand on her chest, "Just because you say 'no offense', doesn't make it any less offensive, Lyds."

⠀⠀Lydia shrugs with pursed lips, and Brietta lets out a breathy laugh before changing the subject, "So, Ali, Valentines day is in four days, and Lydia and I always go see a romance screening at the theater. You should come with us." Brietta conveniently leaves out the part where Lydia always ditches her mid-movie to go see Jackson, seeing as Jackson broke up with her yesterday and she didn't want Allison to think of Eli, either.

⠀⠀Allison hums, "Sounds fun. Which movie?"

⠀⠀Lydia squeals, an extra pep in her step as she talks about the movie, "Love and Other Drugs. It's still in theaters, and we can go after school. Jake Gyllenhaal is so hot."

⠀⠀The rest of the walk through Beacon Hills' preserve was filled with Lydia's animated chatter about her celebrity crushes. The forest echoes with her enthusiastic commentary until Allison suddenly stops in front of a massive tree. She crouches down on the leaf-strewn ground, her movements deliberate and focused.

⠀⠀Reaching into her archery case, Allison extracts an arrow shaft, devoid of its tip. Brietta's curiosity piques, and she can't help but ask, "What are you doing...?"

⠀⠀Allison remains silent, her concentration unwavering. With practiced precision, she retrieves a substantial arrowhead from her case. Her fingers move deftly as she begins the process of attaching the arrowhead to the arrow shaft.

⠀⠀"What does that do?" Lydia questions, eyeing Allison's smug expression. Brietta scrunches her eyebrows together, eyeing Allison, "We're about to find out."

⠀⠀The Argent teenager retrieves her bow with practiced ease, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. She aligns the arrow with the bow, her movements precise and controlled. Brietta watches with rapt attention as Allison narrows her eyes, her focus laser-sharp on the target tree.

⠀⠀With a deep breath, Allison draws the bowstring taut, the tension palpable in the air. In a split second, she releases the arrow, sending it hurtling towards the tree. As it strikes its mark, a small but powerful explosion erupts, catching Brietta completely off guard. Her eyes widen in fear.

⠀⠀"Allison, what the hell was that?" Brietta stares at Allison, furrowing her eyebrows; she had hoped that Allison wasn't like her father, but she isn't so confident with Allison not being a hunter after seeing her use a special arrowhead.

⠀⠀Allison slowly puts the bow down, "I don't know..."

⠀⠀Lydia breathlessly chuckles while clapping her hands together, "Well, that was fun! Any more lethal weapons you wanna try out?" Lydia sasses but Allison's eyes are focused on the now flaming area where the arrow hit.

⠀⠀After a few seconds, the trio hear a slight snap, like a branch being stepped on.

⠀⠀"Well, that's our cue." Lydia nervously whispers, nodding her head towards the way they came.

⠀⠀"Hold this." Allison put the bow in Brietta's hands, causing her to shake her head profusely.

⠀⠀"I thought I heard something," Allison whispers, noticing Brietta's hesitant expression.

⠀⠀"No shit, Allison. We're right next to you," Brietta points out, "We heard it too but this is Beacon Hills preserve so other people might jog here or...other things. I don't know." Brietta rants, placing the arrow underneath her arm as she speaks in a whisper.

⠀⠀"I want to find out what that something is." Allison insists, causing Brietta to gape at the older girl. "Seriously? Do you have a death wish?" Brietta violently whispers as another branch snaps.

⠀⠀"You just said that it could be other people," Allison points out, and Brietta narrows her eyes slightly, "Don't use my words against me, Argent."

⠀⠀"Don't worry, it's probably nothing," Allison assures , taking a few steps toward the noise.

⠀⠀"Well, what if that nothing is something, and that something is dangerous?" Lydia wonder, her words coming out with the speed of light. Peter Hale pops into Brietta's mind and her back instantly steels.

⠀⠀"Shoot it," Allison shrugs, taking a few more steps toward the noise.

⠀⠀"With what?" Brietta scoffs, "Lydia's pumps?"

⠀⠀"You are not hitting anything with my pumps!"

⠀⠀"God," Brietta grunts, walking up to Allison and giving her back her bow, "I'll check it out, okay?"

⠀⠀Before the other girls can react, Brietta impulsively heads toward the source of the noise. Regret starts to creep in as soon as she puts enough distance between herself and Allison and Lydia to be out of earshot. She nervously scans the surrounding trees, a sudden chill prickling her skin. Stopping abruptly, she closes her eyes, attempting to hone in on the sounds around her.

⠀⠀Silence.

⠀⠀Convinced it must have been a harmless squirrel, she desperately clings to that thought, hoping to calm the rising unease in her gut.

⠀⠀However, when she opens her eyes, her heart almost bursts out of her chest.

⠀⠀"Scott," Brietta sighs as she grasps at her chest, trying to calm her viciously beating heart, "I'd kill you for scaring me if I wasn't having trouble breathing."

⠀⠀Scott frowns and steps towards her, "I didn't mean to scare you. Sorry."

⠀⠀"No, it's okay," Brietta shakes her head, even though her heart was still beating faster than she thought was natural, "Why are you stalking me?"

⠀⠀Scott sighs, a visible struggle playing out on his face as he opens and closes his mouth, searching for the right words. He shakes his head slightly, finally meeting Brietta's gaze with soft, earnest eyes, "I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

⠀⠀Brietta's heart quickens, a flutter that has nothing to do with fear this time. Her eyes soften, meeting Scott's warm gaze. She finds herself momentarily lost in the depth of his brown eyes, noticing flecks of gold she'd never seen before.

⠀⠀"Well," she begins, her voice coming out softer than intended. Clearing her throat, she tries to calm the unfamiliar sensation in her chest with a small, nervous laugh. "I don't think Peter would attack me when I'm with the daughter of a hunter."

⠀⠀Scott's face clouds over, hinting at unspoken worries. Brietta's eyebrows furrow, concern etching her features as she unconsciously leans closer to him.

⠀⠀"Is something else wrong?" she asks gently. Scott purses his lips, a frown deepening the lines of his face as he looks off into the distance. His shoulders tense, and Brietta resists the urge to reach out and comfort him.

⠀⠀"The Argents think Jackson is me—they think he's the second Beta," Scott explains, his voice low and troubled. "When they come after him, I won't be able to protect him." His eyes find Brietta's again, and the pain in them makes her heart ache. "I can't protect anyone."

⠀⠀Brietta frowns, instinctively stepping closer. "You're not a God, Scott," she says softly, her hand hovering near his arm before falling back to her side. "You can't protect everyone."

⠀⠀Scott's gaze intensifies, boring into Brietta's eyes with an emotion she can't quite name. The air seems to thicken around them, making it hard to breathe. "I want to," he whispers.

⠀⠀Brietta feels a warmth spreading through her chest, despite the fact that she knows there's still something else he's not telling her. Before she can ask him what else, she hears Lydia and Allison calling out for her.

⠀⠀"I better go before they start to worry," Brietta mutters, but she doesn't move.

⠀⠀Scott nods slowly, his eyes searching hers, "Just...be careful, okay? If anything, anything, happens, call me."

⠀⠀"I will," Brietta promises, her voice barely a whisper. The intensity of his gaze holds her captive for a moment longer before she finally tears herself away, walking back toward Lydia and Allison.

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Ellington taps his pen against his notepad, rereading the four words he's managed to crack out of the seven: You have to remember. Just getting the fourth word was hard enough; now three three-letter words stand between him and the solution.

⠀⠀"You know," Isaac's voice cuts through Ellington's focus, pulling him out of his trance. Ellington looks up to see Isaac leaning casually against a gravestone in the cemetery they're in. "You've been staring at that notepad like it owes you money for the past twenty minutes."

⠀⠀"That's because I hate it," Ellington chuckles, leaning back against the bench he's sitting on.

⠀⠀"Anything I can help with?" Isaac asks, his eyes shining with hope at the prospect of being able to help. Ellington hesitates, glancing down at the notepad and then back at Isaac with a flicker of doubt. Brietta had said she wasn't sure if this was Werewolf-related, so there's a chance it's nothing—but there's also a chance it's something. And if it is something, Ellington knows he'd be dragging Isaac into a mess neither of them fully understands.

⠀⠀Isaac notices the hesitation in Ellington's expression and straightens up, stepping closer. "C'mon, man. I could use a break from raking leaves. Plus, I can keep a secret."

⠀⠀Ellington studies him for a moment before sighing and nodding. He can't say no to Isaac—not when he looks like that. "Alright. C'mon." Isaac grins wide and drops onto the bench beside him, leaning in to get a better look at the notepad. "What's all this?"

⠀⠀"Some cryptic code from a video game Ettie plays," Ellington lies smoothly, surprised at how easily the excuse rolls off his tongue. "She's paying me twenty bucks to solve it."

⠀⠀Isaac narrows his eyes at Ellington for a moment like he's trying to see through him but eventually shrugs and looks down at the notepad instead. "So you've got 'you have to remember,' and now you need..." He glances at the top of the page where Ellington has copied the runes and mapped out the number of letters and words in the phrase. "Three more three-letter words." He stares at the runes for a beat before pointing at them. "What language is this?"

⠀⠀"The entire Runic alphabet," Ellington says with a dry chuckle, already regretting agreeing to take care of this for his sister.

⠀⠀"Well," Isaac says with a laugh, "I don't know much about Runes, but I do know that after 'you have to remember,' it could be something like 'who you saw'...uh... oh!" He straightens up suddenly, chuckling like he's cracked it wide open. "Man, this is easy. It's probably 'you have to remember who you—'"

⠀⠀"Are," Ellington whispers before Isaac can finish.

⠀⠀"Yeah," Isaac agrees with a grin. "Sounds like a cool mind game."

⠀⠀Ellington doesn't respond right away. The words you have to remember who you are keep playing over and over in his head, growing louder with each repetition until they feel like they're coming from somewhere else entirely—somewhere deeper. His head pounds as he shuts his eyes tight against it, but the voice persists. It isn't his voice—it's deeper, familiar in a way that makes his skin crawl: "You have to remember who you are. Both of you. Nobody can take that away if you don't let them."

⠀⠀Ellington's eyes snap open as he scribbles down the rest of the phrase on instinct, leaving out the two other sentences that somehow echoed in his mind. I'm losing it, he thinks grimly.

⠀⠀"Hey," he blurts suddenly, "is it okay if I leave early?"

⠀⠀Isaac blinks in surprise but doesn't hesitate long before replying. "Uh... yeah? Sure." His eyebrows shoot up as he adds, "I mean, you've got thirty minutes left on your shift, but I can cover for you."

⠀⠀Ellington knows he's putting Isaac out by asking—especially since Isaac's dad owns the cemetery and signs Ellington's paychecks—but something about those words won't leave him alone. And then there are those bruises Isaac claims are from lacrosse but clearly aren't.

⠀⠀"Thanks," Ellington says quickly as he gathers his backpack and notepad. He pauses before leaving and looks directly at Isaac. "You know you can always crash at my place, right?"

⠀⠀It's something Ellington always says when they part ways—and every time, Isaac gives him that same small smile and replies softly, "I know." But he rarely takes him up on it.

⠀⠀Ellington lingers for just a moment longer before tearing his eyes away and heading out of the cemetery. The cool air hits him as he walks down the block, but an unsettling prickling sensation creeps up his neck—the familiar feeling of being watched.

⠀⠀He glances over his shoulder sharply but sees nothing but thick trees and shadows shifting between patches of foliage where he looks.

⠀⠀Still...something feels wrong.

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Brietta stares at the text Ellington sent her thirty minutes ago about what the cryptic note had said—you have to remember who you are.

⠀⠀"Who I am?" Brietta repeats in a high-pitched voice, tucking her phone into her back pocket. "I'm sixteen, how am I supposed to know who I am?" She exhales heavily before looking up at the police station she's stopped outside of. If Brietta doesn't know who she is, a police report might give her some clues—or at least an idea.

⠀⠀Brietta walks into the police station, heading straight for Deputy Vargas' cubicle. In typical fashion, Deputy Vargas is typing away on some report on her station-issued computer. "Hi, Deputy," Brietta says with a sweet smile.

⠀⠀Deputy Vargas looks up from her screen and sees right through Brietta's act. "What do you want, Chastener?"

⠀⠀Brietta frowns before cutting to the chase. "I need to see my missing persons report. Please."

⠀⠀Deputy Vargas' eyebrows crinkle together and her lips pull down in concern. Her voice softens slightly as she speaks, "Brietta, you know I can't give you access to that without you filling out the JV-575 and JV-580 forms."

⠀⠀"I know," Brietta sighs before an idea strikes her. "I just wanted more information about that night." She forces a sniffle into existence; knowing how uncomfortable with emotions Deputy Vargas is always helps in situations like this: "It's just so hard not knowing." A single tear manages to well up in one eye as she watches Deputy Vargas squirm uncomfortably.

⠀⠀Deputy Vargas glances around the station before focusing sternly on Brietta again, holding up an index finger like a warning signpost: "Stay here." Her tone remains firm but laced with empathy: "I will get them for you—make sure they're back by next week." The threat hangs unspoken but clear—any damage or irregularity would be met with consequences.

⠀⠀Vargas glances around once more before standing up from her seat and heading towards the storage room. As soon as she disappears from view, Brietta lets out a silent squeal of triumph inside; mentally patting herself on the back for what feels like an Oscar-worthy performance.

⠀⠀When Vargas returns with a manila folder in hand, Brietta composes herself quickly and accepts it discreetly from Deputy's hands—a nod of gratitude exchanged between them without words spoken aloud.

⠀⠀With that done, Vargas goes back to typing on her computer and Brietta leaves the station, heading to the coffee shop right next to it. She orders a hot chocolate before getting cozy in a corner booth, pulling out the folder. As she opens the folder, a server places her hot chocolate on the table and Brietta murmurs a small gratitude and focuses on the first paper in the folder;
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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀
𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗣𝗢𝗥𝗧
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𝗖𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗡𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿: BHPD-2006-0125-001
𝗗𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱: 01/25/2006, 07:45 AM
𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗢𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗿: Sheriff Stilinski, Badge #1

𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗝𝗘𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
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𝗡𝗮𝗺𝗲: CHASTENER, BRIETTA CELESTE
𝗗𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵: 01/09/1995
𝗔𝗴𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲: 11
𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿: Female
𝗥𝗮𝗰𝗲/𝗘𝘁𝗵𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁𝘆: Caucasian
𝗛𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁: 4'7"
𝗪𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁: 82
𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿: Auburn
𝗘𝘆𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿: Blue
𝗜𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸𝘀: N/A

𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
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𝗗𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗦𝗲𝗲𝗻: 01/24/2006
𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗦𝗲𝗲𝗻: Approximately 10:00 PM
𝗟𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗦𝗲𝗲𝗻: 143 Oak Street, Beacon Hills, CA (Subject's bedroom)
𝗖𝗹𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗻: Pink plaid pajamas

𝗖𝗜𝗥𝗖𝗨𝗠𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
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Subject was last seen in her bedroom on the evening of 01/24/2006. The following morning, at approximately 07:30 AM, the subject's grandmother, Agnes Chastener, discovered the subject was missing from her bedroom. There were no signs of forced entry or struggle in the residence. The subject's outdoor clothing and shoes were still present in the home.

𝗥𝗘𝗣𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗬 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
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𝗡𝗮𝗺𝗲: CHASTENER, AGNES
𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝘁𝗼 𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻: Grandmother
𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗜𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: (310) 555-7392. 143 Oak Street, Beacon Hills, CA.

𝗜𝗡𝗩𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗡
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Local law enforcement initiated search at 08:30 AM on 01/25/2006

K-9 units deployed at 09:15 AM, no significant leads found

Volunteers from Beacon Hills community joined search efforts at 11:00 AM

Search expanded to Beacon Hills Preserve and surrounding areas

𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦
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Subject was found on 01/26/2006 at 07:40 AM in her bedroom at 143 Oak Street, Beacon Hills, CA. She was physically unharmed but disoriented. Notable observations include feet covered in dirt and mud consistent with Beacon Hills Preserve terrain, leaves and twigs entangled in hair (species native to Beacon Hills Preserve), which appeared to have been previously singed but not recently so, soiled and damp clothing, and inability to recall events of past 24 hours. Medical examination conducted at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital at 09:30 AM on 01/26/2006 showed no signs of physical trauma or assault. Blood tests were negative for drugs or other substances. Psychological evaluation recommended due to memory loss.

𝗖𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Closed (Subject found) - Unexplained circumstances
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⠀⠀Brietta's frown deepens as she stares at the report, her mind racing. The singed leaves and twigs in her hair...how had she missed that detail before? Her heart begins to pound as the pieces start falling into place.

⠀⠀Doctor Haberlind's words echo in her mind: "They call January the Wolf Moon. Supposedly Werewolves were stronger together in packs."

⠀⠀With trembling fingers, Brietta pulls out her phone and searches for the date of the Wolf Moon in 2005. The result makes her breath catch in her throat.

⠀⠀January 25, 2005.

⠀⠀The same day as the Hale fire.

⠀⠀Her eyes widen as the realization hits her. Six years later, to the day, she had gone missing. And returned with singed evidence in her hair. The coincidence is too stark to ignore.

⠀⠀Brietta's mind whirls, memories of sneaking into Derek's house a week ago flashing before her eyes. The missing charm she'd found there...what did it all mean?

⠀⠀Her temples throb as she tries to piece it all together. Why would she have gone to the Hale house on the anniversary of the fire? What connection could she possibly have to that tragic event?

⠀⠀Brietta presses her palms against her eyes, willing the pounding in her head to subside. The questions swirl relentlessly, each one leading to another, with no answers in sight. She feels like she's on the edge of uncovering something monumental, yet the truth remains frustratingly out of reach—like the answers were sand slipping through of her fingers.

⠀⠀As she lowers her hands, her gaze falls on the report again. The singed evidence seems to mock her, a tangible link to a past she can't remember.

⠀⠀Brietta clenches her fists, determination setting in. She needs answers, and she won't rest until she finds them.

⠀⠀Suddenly, the Star Wars theme song blares through the coffee shop, drawing a few curious glances. Brietta snatches her phone, a smile tugging at her lips as she answers, "Hey, Stiles."

⠀⠀"Hey, Brelly," Stiles' voice comes through, uncharacteristically heavy.

⠀⠀Brietta's smile fades and her posture straightens. She closes the file in front of her with a soft thud and leans back slightly. "Stiles, are you okay?"

⠀⠀"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," he replies unconvincingly. "I found some stuff about the Hale fire from my dad. I'm outside your house, but—" His voice fades momentarily. "What are you doing at the coffee shop by the police station?"

⠀⠀Brietta's eyes widen slightly as she scans the shop instinctively, looking for Stiles. A beat later, she remembers just who she's talking to. Her fingers absently drum against the closed file cover. "I thought I told you to remove that tracking app," she chuckles softly.

⠀⠀"I thought you knew I wouldn't listen," Stiles quips lightly; in the background is the familiar rumble of his Jeep engine starting up.

⠀⠀"Well, I'm onto something too," Brietta murmurs quietly into the phone while glancing down at the file now hidden beneath its cover, and it might have something to do with the Hale fire, so get here quick."

⠀⠀"I'll be there in five minutes," Stiles assures, and Brietta's eyebrows raise. It's at least a ten minute drive from her house to the coffee shop. "Stiles, you're going to get another speeding ticket."

⠀⠀Stiles scoffs and she hears the car rumble a bit more as Stiles speeds up. "I don't have any speeding tickets, Brelly."

⠀⠀Brietta snickers incredulously, "You have, like, ten speeding tickets and you just started driving a few months ago."

⠀⠀"Those don't count!" Stiles argues, his voice cracking, making Brietta giggle, "Sure they don't."

⠀⠀As Brietta and Stiles continue their playful banter over the phone, the minutes stretch on. Brietta checks her watch, noting that they've been on the call for four minutes. She glances out the window, watching the streetlights flicker to life as the sun sets, casting a warm glow over the coffee shop.

⠀⠀After what feels like an eternity, she hears the familiar rumble of Stiles' Jeep pulling up outside. The bell above the door jingles as he bursts in, his eyes darting around before they land on her. "What'd I say?" Stiles smiles, sliding into Brietta's booth, "Five minutes."

⠀⠀Brietta snorts lightly, and takes a sip from her hot chocolate, signaling for Stiles to talk. Stiles bounces lightly in his seat, pulling out his phones to look at what must be photos he took of files from his dad, "There's a pattern. Everyone that Peter killed had priors with arson. The video store clerk you were with that night? Convicted arsonist. The two guys in the woods when we got drunk? Charged with arson."

⠀⠀"So, maybe they all had something to do with the Hale fire, and Peter's getting revenge," Brietta voices, setting down her cup, and it melts a grain of her hatred toward the man—he's trying to avenge his family. Brietta can't say she wouldn't have done the same if it came to Ellington, Stiles or Scott—and her other friends, of course.

⠀⠀"That's exactly what I said," Stiles nods, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "But there's something even weirder. Two unidentified guys were found dead near the Hale house during the fire. The police report is weird. One guy looked physically unharmed, except for the fact that his heart had, you know, stopped beating and was crushed inside his chest. The other guy's skull wasn't just fractured—it was completely shattered, like it had been made of glass."

⠀⠀Stiles leans in, lowering his voice as Brietta's heart raced. "The autopsy couldn't explain how either of them died. There were no external injuries on the first guy that could account for his crushed heart, and the second's skull fragmentation was unlike anything they'd ever seen—it's not even supposed to be possible."

⠀⠀Brietta blinks slowly, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she remembers her dream from this morning in class; A blood-curdling scream pierces the air, causing Brietta to flinch. The sound is hauntingly familiar—her own voice, she realizes with a start. The scream is followed by a series of sharp, sickening cracks and a heavy thud that seems to reverberate through her bones.

⠀⠀"Stiles..." she whispers, her voice trembling as she struggles to articulate the fear coiling within her. Just then, Stiles' phone rings, drowning out her words. Brietta watches intently as he answers, but the color drains from his cheeks almost immediately. Stiles' eyes dart around nervously as he listens to the caller, his free hand fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

⠀⠀After what feels like an eternity, Stiles finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Peter's with Melissa." He pauses, listening intently to the person on the other end of the line. Brietta leans in closer, her heart pulsing, straining to hear any clues about the situation—the only thing she hears is Scott's muffled voice on the other end.

⠀⠀Stiles' eyes widen as he continues to receive information. "Wait, what do you mean they're on a date? How did Peter even—" He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Okay, okay. We'll be there as soon as we can. Just... just send me Melissa's location."

⠀⠀He ends the call and turns to Brietta, his face a mix of determination and fear. "We need to go. Now."

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Stiles and Brietta drive behind Melissa's car, careful not to let the woman detect the obvious blue jeep trailing behind her. Brietta's eyes narrow as she gazes at the front view mirror, spotting Peter Hale in the front seat talking to Scott's mother. Her eyebrows furrow, and her grip on the door tightens as she sees Peter.

⠀⠀"They're stopping. Why are they stopping?" Brietta's voice rises, her words tumbling out quickly as she watches the car down the street pull over. Stiles slows down, rubbing his face as he drives slower. "Hit them," she says abruptly, her eyes locked on Stiles with an intense stare.

⠀⠀"Pardon?"

⠀⠀"Hit them with your car," Brietta clarifies, her voice firm but her hands trembling slightly as she gestures. "Look, if we hit them, we get them apart," she adds, her tone sharp.

⠀⠀Stiles huffs, his expression hesitant, before slowly driving towards Melissa's car. "Here it goes." He takes a deep breath, then pushes his foot down on the gas pedal, crashing into the back of the black car. The impact jolts Brietta forward, her head snapping back against the seat.

⠀⠀She winces as she hears Melissa's tone, her vision blurring as she climbs out of the car alongside Stiles. "Mrs. McCall?" Stiles speaks innocently, waving at the angry mother.

⠀⠀"Yes!" Melissa rubs the bridge of her nose as Peter climbs out of her car. Brietta's eyes widen, her gaze fixed on him, her breathing quickening. A faint memory flickers through her mind, a masculine voice sounding in her head, "You have to remember who you are. Both of you. Nobody can take that away if you don't let them."

⠀⠀"I mean, I do not know what happened. You guys just came out of nowhere—" Stiles lies, his words faltering as Brietta steps towards him, her movements unsteady. "Came out of nowhere? We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles!" Melissa cries out, her hands motioning to her car.

⠀⠀"How crazy is that?!"

⠀⠀Stiles' grin falters as Peter steps towards them. Brietta's eyes remain fixed on Peter, her face pale. "I mean, we should probably call the cops, you know? Do, like, an accident report thing?" Stiles suggests, looking at Brietta for support, but her gaze doesn't waver from Peter. "I don't think that's necessary," Peter dismisses, looking up at the sky that has begun drizzling.

⠀⠀"Are you sure? I think I'm feeling a little whiplash." Stiles rubs his neck, causing Melissa to turn to him. "Whiplash? You hit us!"

⠀⠀As Stiles and Melissa continue arguing, Brietta slowly walks towards the car, leaning on the passenger door for support. Her eyes never leave Peter, her expression a mix of confusion and unease. She sways slightly, her hand grasping the door handle tightly as if it's the only thing holding her upright.

⠀⠀Brietta's stomach churns as she presses her forehead against the cool, damp glass. The world tilts and spins around her, raindrops blurring her vision. Her lips part, a whisper escaping. "Stiles..."

⠀⠀She turns her head, seeking out the familiar plaid shirt, but Stiles' back is to her, his hands gesticulating wildly as he talks to Melissa. Brietta's fingers fumble for the door handle, her knees buckling. She tries again, her voice barely a rasp. "Sti—"

⠀⠀His name dies in her throat. Black spots dance at the edges of her vision, growing larger, consuming the sight before her. Her legs give way, and she slides down the side of the jeep, raindrops mingling with the cold sweat on her brow.

⠀⠀As darkness envelops her, the deep, masculine voice echoes again through her fading consciousness:

⠀⠀"You have to remember who you are."

⠀⠀Then, silence.

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The sterile hospital room swims into focus as Brietta's eyelids flutter open. A sound of beeps and murmurs assaults her senses, but two warm pressures on her right hand anchor her to reality. She turns her head, her gaze locking with two pairs of worried eyes.

⠀⠀"...Brelly," Stiles' voice breaks through the fog, laced with concern.

⠀⠀Brietta's fingers twitch, curling around the hands enveloping hers. The boys' shoulders visibly relax, and she feels a flicker of warmth spread through her chest.

⠀⠀"Why is it so bright in here?" she gently speaks, the words almost a whisper. The corners of her mouth lift involuntarily as she sees Scott's crooked grin and Stiles' reassuring smile.

⠀⠀"What happened?" she wonders, reaching her other hand to grip theirs tighter. Their touch sends a wave of comfort washing over her, grounding her in the moment.

⠀⠀Stiles and Scott share a concerned look, and Stiles scratches the back of his head, guilt etched across his features. "So, uh, the doctor said your blood pressure was low, and when we hit Melissa's car, it kind of freaked you out even more. That's why you passed out."

⠀⠀Brietta's heart begins to race, the rhythm echoing in her ears as the ECG monitor beeps faster. She knows it wasn't just the car; it was everything else—the weight of memories she can't yet articulate to herself, let alone to her best friends.

⠀⠀Stiles and Scott's heads snap toward the ECG, their expressions shifting from concern to alarm as the beeping rises with her heartbeat. "Hey," Scott's voice is soft as it pulls Brietta out of her head. His eyes are warm and steady, calming her. "You're safe in the hospital and Peter left after the ambulance came. I don't think he'll show his face for a while."

⠀⠀Brietta nods, her gaze drifting to the open hospital room door where Ellington stands with a water bottle in one hand and a box of chocolate strawberries in the other.

⠀⠀"Sorry to interrupt," he says, his voice quieter than usual. He takes a hesitant step forward, his gaze darting between Stiles and Scott as if gauging whether he's interrupting something important.

⠀⠀Stiles rises first, his hand slipping reluctantly from Brietta's, but Scott stays seated, his hand still resting on hers. Ellington clears his throat, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Uh..." He gestures vaguely toward Brietta's bed. "I can take it from here."

⠀⠀Brietta catches the familiar look in her brother's eyes—the one that screams 'we need to talk, but we have company.' She shifts, propping herself up. "It's getting late, guys. Visiting hours are probably almost over."

⠀⠀Despite the clear dismissal, Scott and Stiles linger. Their reluctance to leave warms her heart, even as Ellington clears his throat. "I just spoke with her doctor. She'll be cleared tomorrow. You can swing by the house then."

⠀⠀This seems to placate them. Stiles tugs on Scott's arm, pulling him up reluctantly. The two boys exchange a glance before turning back to Brietta with smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. "We'll see you tomorrow," Stiles says softly, and Scott nods in agreement.

⠀⠀Brietta watches them leave, her chest tightening at the sight of their retreating forms. When the door clicks shut behind them, Ellington exhales audibly, as though he's been holding his breath. He steps closer to her bed but doesn't sit down immediately. Instead, he places the strawberries on the side table with exaggerated care while handing Brietta the water bottle.

⠀⠀Finally, he lowers himself into the chair Scott had vacated, his leg bouncing almost immediately. His eyes flicker to hers but don't hold her gaze for long; instead, they dart to the floor or the edge of her blanket.

⠀⠀"Have you ever..." He stops abruptly, his jaw tightening as if the words are physically difficult to say. His fingers drum against his thigh before curling into a fist. "I don't know...heard things you shouldn't?"

⠀⠀Brietta blinks at him, her pulse quickening as her grip tightens on the water bottle in her lap. Ellington shifts uncomfortably under her gaze, misinterpreting her silence as confusion or disbelief. He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

⠀⠀"Did that phrase I texted make you think of anything?" His words come out in a rush, like he's afraid he might lose the nerve to say them if he pauses.

⠀⠀Brietta swallows hard and nods slowly, her voice low and deliberate when she finally speaks. "I heard a voice in my head. A guy's voice. He was saying: You have to remember who you are. Both of you. Nobody—"

⠀⠀"—can take that away if you don't let them," Ellington finishes quickly, the words tumbling out as though they've been burning a hole in his chest.

⠀⠀For a moment, neither of them speaks. The weight of what they've just shared hangs heavy in the air between them. Brietta's grip tightens around the water bottle until her knuckles ache.

⠀⠀"Eli..." she breathes out finally, her voice trembling as she meets his eyes fully for the first time since he sat down. "I think we're different. Maybe even...supernatural different."

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𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

i sort of love this chapter, but the next two (the dance & finale) will obviously take the cake.

i'm sorry it's taken two weeks for a new chapter!! i'm trying to get back in the groove of writing at least one scene (hopefully two) a day and updating (eventually) every week then advancing to every four days or so!

i did proofread a bit but i spent a lot of time rewriting for more "show, don't tell" factor so there might be repeat sentences—just point them out and i'll delete it!

▍PUBLISHED . . 02/23/25 — ♡︎ ୫
© POETICLULLS,                     2025